


The one where Cesc meets the cute barista guy

by amadridlover



Category: Football RPF
Genre: coffee shop AU, i wish iker made my coffee, this is lame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:16:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadridlover/pseuds/amadridlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cesc has been staring at the barista from the local coffee shop for the past twenty minutes, unable to look away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one where Cesc meets the cute barista guy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a little while ago and totally forgot about it. It hasn't been proof-read so sorry for any mistakes. 
> 
> It kinda sucks LOL.

Cesc has been staring at the barista from the local coffee shop for the past twenty minutes, unable to look away. How has he never noticed this guy before? He sighs. It’s bad enough living in a new city where he doesn’t know anybody, having his best friend drive back to Barcelona—to home—as soon as he helped him move into his new flat but now the first guy he sees that is his age and is really cute is a fucking _Madridista_ , the Real Madrid scarf tucked around his neck indicating his allegiance on game day. Cesc sips his coffee miserably, cursing his bad luck at being offered a scholarship in Madrid of all places, his Culé heart throbbing painfully.

Cesc removes the lid from his cup, licking the chocolate-powdered froth gathered there. His eyes return casually to the barista, looking him over again. He’s wearing the uniform black long-sleeve top and black jeans, and Cesc thinks the skinny leg is really doing him wonders as the guy bends down to grab a new bottle of milk from the below-the-counter fridge. All of a sudden, two warm eyes are looking back at him. The guy raises an eyebrow in question, and Cesc flushes, caught in the act. The barista winks at him, and then goes back to making his coffee, leaving Cesc with all sorts of flutters and butterflies in his stomach, after all, he’s pretty sure the cute Madridista barista just flirted with him, even if it was just a wink.

Cesc is so excited that he burns his tongue as he takes a large gulp of his drink, not remembering to be careful. He bites his tongue in pain, cursing himself. Luckily he is distracted by a pink floating object in his cappuccino. Cesc’s eyes widen in pleasant surprise as he realises it is a marshmallow. Could his day get any better? Cesc snapchats a picture of his drink to his friends, followed by an exclamation-heavy caption. He hopes they won’t forget him, even though it’s been like, five days, 16 hours, forty minutes and twenty-three seconds. Cesc half-panics, realising he can no longer picture Piqué’s face. He searches his best friend up on Facebook, and intimately studies his profile picture, vowing to himself to never go a day without remembering Gerard’s facial features, for, Cesc reasons, that would mean he would be morphing into…well, one of _them._

A small cough interrupts his thought process, and Cesc looks up to come face-to-face with none other than the attractive barista from behind the counter, who was now so close that Cesc could identify each single strand of his hair—there didn’t seem to be much of it. Still, Cesc thought the man looked much better from close up, his eyes projecting a humour and familiarity that made him feel warm inside. And his lips, they were slightly chapped, as if having been chewed upon in a moment of intense concentration—surely coffee-making could do that to someone. Cesc shakes the errant thought from his mind.

“Hi,” the attractive young man says, smiling at Cesc. His lips, those soft-pink lips are smiling at him, at Cesc! For a moment, Cesc forgets to breathe, and it’s only when his face is going red from the lack of oxygen and the cute barista starts to frown worriedly that his autonomic nervous system forces him to take a breath, and Cesc is glad that he studied psych for a semester and now knows that he has an automatic failsafe plan to keeping himself alive in case he forgets to because it is more than likely that he will have to resort to it if the cute barista keeps looking at him with those eyes and those lips and—oh!

The cute barista touches Cesc on the arm lightly, concerned.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asks, his eyes innocent and wide.

“Y-yes. Yeah,” Cesc manages to get out, his brain only registering the toned nature of the outstretched arm touching him. He blinks a few times in quick succession, his head swimming, his heart erratic. Just then, he realises he hasn’t really said anything of much use to the guy.

“I’m Cesc,” he says dumbly, smiling up at the barista. The guy grins back.

“Iker,” he replies, shaking his hand. He looks relieved that Cesc is interacting with him, even if it is only to a primitive standard, and hell, Cesc thinks that maybe the hot barista guy with the time-stopping smile was nervous about talking to him, and he can’t quite understand why because, well, he’s just Cesc and _he,_ well—he’s a cute barista guy! It doesn’t really make sense to Cesc and to be honest, his brain is starting to hurt a little from such confusing thoughts. He sits down on the nearest chair, trying to stop feeling overwhelmed.

The cute barista hesitates, as if unsure whether or not to join Cesc. He steps forward and in the same moment tucks his leg in front of his other leg, standing awkwardly with his legs now-crossed, trying to appear casual. Cesc thinks if he wasn’t that cute he wouldn’t have been able to pull it off but something about the cute barista guy—no, Iker—seeming nervous around him made him really quite endearing.

“So, um, Cesc,” Iker begins, chewing on his lip lightly, _buying himself time_ , Cesc thinks. “You from around here? I haven’t seen you before, I don’t think.”

“I’ve just moved here for Uni. I’m from Barcelona,” Cesc replies, glad his brain is starting to work again. “And I’m a Culé,” he blurts out, his cheeks reddening from the outburst.

Iker looks at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“Oh, we’ll have to do something about that,” he laughs, shaking his head, his face crinkling sweetly.

Cesc doesn’t reply, too distracted between feeling insulted at Iker’s insinuation that he’d be able to turn him away from his beloved Barcelona, and excited because hadn’t Iker just said “ _we’ll_ have to do something about that?”, the “we’ll” meaning him and Cesc, Cesc and him, the two of them together? Did that mean that Iker wanted to see him again, no, counted on it? Cesc realises that Iker is looking at him, unsure.

“Hey, you know I was just joking, yeah? I hope I didn’t offend you or anything…” Iker rushes out, running a hand absently through his thinning hair.

Cesc thinks his worry is adorable. What he really wants to do now is kiss Iker, but Cesc isn’t a kiss on the first date kind of guy, and this hardly constitutes as a first date anyway. So instead, Cesc just grins up at Iker, and raises his eyebrows in a challenge.

“On the contrary, I was just going to say that it was your whole city that we were going to need to do something about. Besides, you and your kind had better watch out. I’m here for a year. By the end of my stay I wouldn’t be surprised if half the city is Blaugrana.” Okay, so Cesc kind of realises the immediate second after the words leave his mouth that his reply is somewhat reminiscent of a B-grade Sherlock Holmes, somewhat threatening, and altogether much lamer than what he would have hoped, but hey, Iker isn’t turning away in disgust or making fun of him but he _is_ grinning at Cesc and the younger boy thinks that maybe, just maybe they are on the same page.

“Did you, did you maybe want to get some coffee or…” Iker begins, blushing. Cesc lifts his cup up to Iker, confused. He already has coffee. “Oh, um, no, I mean, some other time? Together?” Iker manages to get out, and Cesc laughs in understanding.

“Yes. Sure,” he breathes out, excited. Maybe living in this city isn’t going to be so bad after all.

“Oh, good,” Iker says happily, breathing out loudly, his shoulders relaxing. They smile at each other, and Cesc realises that this could be a real problem, because they’ve only known each other for a few minutes and they’ve already been smiling for more than half of that time, and seriously, once they started it seemed like it would be very hard to make them stop and—

“IKER?!” a man yells from behind the counter, causing Iker and Cesc to both jump.

“Joder,” Iker gets out, laughing again, this time a little uncontrollably. His brings his hand to his mouth, trying to muffle his sounds. “I’m still on shift! I completely forgot!”

Cesc looks at him in surprise, a dangerously girlish giggle escaping his lips. 

“I just really wanted to come talk to you after I saw you staring an all,” Iker explains in a teasing voice. He is flushing as a man who Cesc assumes is his manager motions for him to return back to work in annoyance.

“I’m glad you did,” Cesc tells him, grinning, ducking his head somewhat bashfully. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“No,” Iker replies, looking at Cesc happily. “Ten o’clock? Here?”

“Ten,” Cesc agrees, giving Iker a little wave as he saunters back to the counter, looking over his shoulder at Cesc and blowing him a kiss.

Huh, Cesc thinks. His move to Madrid suddenly seems less daunting, and Cesc is glad he decided to take a risk. Besides, Cesc has better things to think about than his worries, such as starting his new course, finding some fellow Culé outcasts, _oh,_ and the very charming, very cute, barista guy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love <33


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